


Of Flesh and Passion

by avaloncat555



Category: Shaman King (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Biting, Blood and Injury, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Demons, Implied Relationships, Multi, Subtext
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaloncat555/pseuds/avaloncat555
Summary: Oneshots for  Mankinktober 2020.(The best couplings, they decide, are ones that awaken desire in both body and spirit.)Prompt 1: Biting(Yoh goes to his brother, and learns of hunger interwoven between blood and bone, from somebody who is but a dust and memory.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Mankinktober 2020





	Of Flesh and Passion

_''You can come in, you know. The wind is starting to rise, you will freeze outside.''_ The voice that comes, even before he knocks, throws Yoh off for a moment. It is not Hao's voice, not of any of his followers, but then again, Yoh doesn't know them all. It is easy to be surprised.

Somebody else, were they to witness scene ( aside from Amidamaru, who has his concerns but keeps them shut, both from loyalty and knowing better than most) would accuse Yoh of being naive and foolish. He isn't, not really. He hears forced politeness of that voice, which resembles stale candy, nd he notices tension in it, like arrow nocked and ready to strike, and both decides to hope for the best, and knows that if Hao wanted to kill him, it will be in open arena, by his own hand, not sneak attack by follower.

It is dark inside, and hot. It feels as if somebody lit fireplace and closed all windows, and frankly, Yoh is starting to get concerned that Hao will die of carbon monoxide poisoning before anything else ( and wouldn't that be the perfect irony). Room is mostly bare, lacking any personal touch, and he knows everything is probably in the closed wardrobe, but still, without even a shoe tucked in corner, or notebook on bed, it feels quietly, obnoxiously sad.

Speaking of beds, there is Hao's companion. A boy their age ( or is he younger, just tall and lean, or does he have dying soldier's eyes), with black hair cropped short, ancient clothes, eyes like flickering candleflames, and smile of tiger trying to pass as human. He is squatting on the bed, and looking at Yoh with intense interest, like lonely boy meeting new classmate- or as if Yoh was a butterfly he'd like to pin down. He doesn't look familiar at all.

''Hello. Thanks for inviting me. I hope I didn't interrupt anything?'' He says, not sure what he could be interrupting, but just to be safe. His brother keeps interesting company, and he isn't sure what a boy in his room- and then, there is, something, like a movement of world, a shift in perspective, and boy looks so distant and washed out, a thing of mist and weak watercolours, a ghost of memory of mirror, and Yoh takes step back, not out of fear or disgust, but an instinctive reaction, as if somebody caught him by hand and spilled cold drops in his eyes.

 _''No, no, no. Not really. I would have told you to come later if you were. It is not nice to lie. I suppose you are here to see Hao?''_ Boy vontinues, and his voice is like molten sugar that almost touches flesh, like slurred alcohol left out for too long in the sunlight. He gains more presence, more definition, but he still looks bit lost, as if somebody took pieces of mirror and arranged them like puzzle but never fixed the cracks.

''Yes. Is he here?'' Yoh asks, and goes to bed, and perhaps somebody else would have felt anxiety, and perhaps somebody else would have called him foolish, but it is easy to forget that at ten Yoh fought Oh-Oni and succeeded, that he walked in the Hell and won his way out, tha this is boy who shares his music with graveyard and it's ghosts, that one of his teammates and best friends routinely holds hands with his wife's skeleton. He is used to things most would consider deeply disturbed.

 _''Hmmmm. Good question. I suppose he is, in the way. Not that you will be getting much use out of him either way.''_ And boy moves out of sight, and it looks like shadow of flame flickering, and Yoh sees his brother. He is unprepared for sight- for never had he seen Hao look so peaceful and relaxed, so free and humble, so sweet and young, ahrmless and happy. He was laid on his back, and content smile played on his face, and there he laid in the deep sleep, and his arms laid by the side.

Yoh's right hand went to his sword, and his left to his mouth. For on his brother's body there were many bruises and traces of mighty jaws, and from his chest to navel was split great wound, and Yoh could see bone poking through, and blood pooling and drying to rusty brown on the sheets.

 _''Aaa-ah, no need for that. He is all right, see? Just sleeping, too deep to hear, yes, but not enough to be danger.''_ Boy spoke again, and suddenly he was not boy, but a great and hulking shape made of smoke, indiscint like a predator hiding in cave, and he was arising out of blood and wound. And when Yoh blinked again, there were no wounds on Hao, but inkstains where bites were located, and line of ash on his stomach.

''What is this?'' Yoh asked, and greater men had failed to maintain composure. Images before him switched and changed, as if somebody was waving curtain left and right, and Hao was bleeding, and covered in ritual script, and completely untouched, and they were in room in Patch village, and in cave at top of mountain filled with smoke, and in house from thousand years ago, attended by boy and memory and ogre, surrounded by nothing, and gnashing flayed limbs bustling under surface of Hao's skin, trying to break out, and tiny childlike forms made of oil bubbles and fading smog clinging on his body.

 _''He is giving a birth. Wouldn't be so dramatic usually, but my Mappa always has to take hard way, doesn't he? So here we are, awaiting legion, as spirit world and human mix here.''_ The boy- and he is truly a boy now, even mad grin and candlelight in eyes gone out, just a skinny teenager in antique clothing whispering that strange name ( Mappa Mappa Mappa) like curse and prayer and riddle and answer to all world's problems and their cause, and Yoh feels his heart go soft at sight, but doesn't forget what happened previously, and has an inkling on why Hao feels safe enough to sleep nearly comatose in middle of Shaman Fight.

''What?!'' Even the greatest and most composed creature on the Earth had their limits, and hearing you may become uncle from one of maybe ten creepiest guardian spirits you ever met definitely counts.

 _''Used to do it all the time, when he was young. For people are hateful and afraid and full of secrets and desires, filled to brim with dark thoughts and horrible emotions, and they would force themselves on him, and each day his skin would split open and his blood would be medium for his children to be born, with their wicked claws and sharp horn, hundred and eight forming one, and then ten times so, and ten times so again, in an infinite chain of resentment.''_ And suddenly, Yoh remembers a mountain, and snow, and cat and sword, and girl kneeling as a demon called her mother.

''Oni... Are you one?'' He asks, curious and careful, looking at his sleeping brother, at boy-demon rising from his chest, and wonders how it earned trust enough to be his protector. It could be, he supposes, Spirit of Fire in the human form, but it doesn't feel right. It is too tame, too defined, too manlike and civilized and dark to be such spirit.

 _''Yes and no, again and again. Oni I may be, but I wasn't always one, and I live below his flesh, but i am not born of him.''_ He says, and for moment it is as if his face splits in several, and there is nostalgia and regret and anger and shame there, and each of them looks at Hao.

''What is your name?'' he asks, and for moment there is only the boy, who looks so confused and scared, and looks at Yoh as if he has grown another head, before he smiles and answers, still carding his hand through Hao's hair.

 _''Ah, I apologize for not introducing myself. I am Daitaro. And may I hear yours?''_ There is no surname, but Yoh doesn't bother asking. The boy's hand has turned in nothing but fragile bone, and his clothes are ratty and flea eaten, and hao's hair shines red as purple spreads underneath his bubbling skin.

''I am Asakura Yoh. Glad that we have met!'' He answers, and then skull turns towards him, and there are horns on it, and cursemarks spreading, and flesh growing over ribs as small flames are lit up in empty eye sockets.

 _''Yoh, huh? Well, it makes sense. You all have always been oh so very fond of leaves. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Your ancestor did belong to forest and it's creatures first, though he learnt to flay himself and become man.''_ The words are cryptic and unsettling, but Yoh tries not to be bothered, as they are said in rather friendly, teasing tone, though he isn't sure if daitaro is talking more to himself, or expects Yoh to pick up on references.

''My brother, actually.'' He says, and Daitaro stops for moment, quirking eyebrow and frowning as he looks between Yoh and sleeping boy-man at his side. He looks like a man who just heard bird speak and claim it is related to fish, and is trying to figure out who is being played for the fool, before huffing and crossing arms..

 _''Well! Isn't that surprise! He told me nothing. Good enough to watch, not good enough to converse with, it seems. Thank you, I'd have never known if you hadn't said. I'd have been less mean.''_ It sounds sincere enough, but Yoh feels wave of concern and insult ( is Hao that bad at communication, does he not want to introduce us) as he is adressed.

''He probably assumed that you would figure it out? I mean, we are twins, so it is bit obvious. I even got confused for him several times.'' Yoh explains, gesturing to himself and to Hao, and only now he notices how truly alike they look, now that Hao's attitude and clothes are removed, and easy smile is on his face. It feels bit awkward explaining it, but that's what brothers are for, covering each other's back (though in Hao's case it would probably be more of, stop Yoh from being shot in back by burning attacker to ashes, but still, it's something).

 _'' Really? That is so foolish, how even... No, I would have never confused you two. Not even if I had never spent a century within his breastbone. Your teeth are very blunt. Like mine.''_ Daitaro laughs, and it sounds like something choked and too tired, like mummy cackling as it swallows broken glass. Yof offers thin, wavering smile in the return, like a man unsure what everybody is joking about, but feeling that it is likely on his expense. On the other hand, maybe oni do look at teeth before anything?

 _''He has sharp teeth, made for gnashing bones and cutting flesh, believe me. He didn't have them when we met, but he was still so, so hungry. His mother was a fox, you see. She gave birth to him when she took a woman's form, so his teeth were flat, but demon she was and so he was born starved, and I knew they didn't fit him at all, even if they looked like mine, but your jaw is as it should be. You have never eaten grass or lapped up the blood.''_ Yoh is afraid, and hates himself for that, because it is rude, and it is stupid- he faced more dangerous things- but now, watching mad light glint in dead boy's eye as curse mark spreads and flesh rots, exposing bone and fire, he feels nothing but dread. Daitaro looks, not even dangerous, but horrible and sad and awful, like rusted knife stuck un river clogged with plague victims, and what is mortal and living in Yoh feels disgust on such level that he can't bear to look at him.

 _''But he sharpened them, or perhaps I did? Who can know, and it doesn't matter, the end is same. I tried to take his power, but I did not know how good betrayal is for demon's teeth, and I thought him helpless, but his mother's child he was, so he consumed me up from inside. Ripped my stomach open and pulled out insides and gnawed on my throat. **Ate and ate and ate, and it wasn't enough**.''_ It sounds like friend's joke, a brother's nostalgia, a lover's confession. The flesh covers bone and becomes shadow, and there is something soft and poisonous on Daitaro's face. Yoh doesn't know whom to pity, whom to fear, a dead boy that knows no release, or Hao for keeping this inside his heart.

(He does not pay attention to images Daitaro's voice awakens in his mind, of his brother, filled with wild and precise strength, nude and kingly, all muscles and elegance and something primal yet restrained, kissing Daitaro's throat with such force that starlight pale, pointy teeth break down the crumbling bone, that his mouth is painted red with scarlet blood, like demon descending upon sinner, like poppies blooming in desert, like cat whose whiskers are graced with gore of mice, like soil fortified with scorching embers of vulcano's rampage, like altar of god consecrated with blood of sacrifice, as Daitaro gasps and sucks on Hao's own shoulder, his teeth leaving behind bruises of plum, trying and failing to absorb Hao, to steal his power, to punish him, to give him rest, to open himself to him, to keep him safe- but he is not strong or stubborn or spiteful or sorrow-stained or starved for it, not now and maybe never, and he doesn't know if it is magic, the demon's voice pushing it's design onto his mind or if it is simply him picking up on what daitaro is really saying, that hungry and mouth watering look he gives Hao, how she clutches his body, the bleeding teethmarks found on both of them.)

 _''But that is all in the past now. He is strong, so he can afford to be merciful to his enemies, give them quick end and consumption instead of being taken apart and devoured, and pretend he will ever stop being hungry- he could ignore it, live as a songbird when left alone, until somebody tried to take it away from him, and feel in hole inside. And I? I am empty of my resentment, and I remain because he opens his heart to my memory, and I remain immortal by begging him to sink his teeth into me.''_ Daitaro smiles, and indeed, his teeth are very flat, like any normal human's, and as yellow as an old skull. The wound-ash line-writing on the Hao's stomach, meanwhile, looks white as swan's feathers, and is in shape of fox's canines. Yoh feels almost sick, except not really. It's too strange for him to understand, so he doesn't.

 _''Thank you for keeping me company. It was very enjoyable. He should be waking up in some twenty minutes. Want to stay, meet the new spawns? Talk to him? Maybe I could convince him to let you in too, when time comes?''_ Daitaro lays next to Hao, laying his mouth on his shoulder, covered by his hair, and for moment he is not there, but only a long haired boy and his shadow, joined at hip, and speck of blood between them all.

''That is- That is very nice, thank you for offer, been nice to meet you, but no need, gotta go! See you soon!'' And he runs out, face hot and feet flaming with speed, considering whether he should tell anybody, or throw Hao baby shower, but first off he needs to get as far away as possible because what would follow is too intimate and too horrifying to consider, even excluding it's his brother.

Behind, in nicely illuminated room with quietly sleeping healthy boy, only a chuckle remains.


End file.
